


A Little Detective Work

by tigerbright



Category: White Collar
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, Crime Fighting, Gen, Minoan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:31:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerbright/pseuds/tigerbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All that glitters...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Detective Work

**Author's Note:**

  * For [via_ostiense](https://archiveofourown.org/users/via_ostiense/gifts).



> Post-reveal note:  
> The photo of the lovely evening gown was found with help from Google.
> 
> The other two photos are from my Flickr (gingicat) and are of Rubynye's Snake Goddess and of Rubynye's hamentaschen, respectively.

"I hate evening gowns," Diana muttered.  She could imagine Lieutenant Brennan laughing, just as he had when he gave her the assignment. "Sorry, Detective, but you're on duty for the big opening.  Just because you're not uniform any more…"

"…doesn't mean that I don't have to sometimes wear a uniform. Whatever, sir."  Surprised to hear herself say it aloud, she looked around quickly.  At least the damn dress meant that a police-issue wire wasn't part of her outfit, though really, in 2003, she wondered why the damn things weren't smaller and cheaper. 

Expand your vocabulary, woman! she scolded herself.

Looking for distraction, she strolled around the exhibit.  She'd been looking forward to seeing bull-leapers and snake goddesses, and most of the exhibits were being ignored by the guests, who preferred to show off their knowledge without illustration, mostly loudly.

"Are you on about Atlantis and Santorini AGAIN?" someone shouted in her ear.  She turned and looked the man in the eye.

"Professor Forsyth, how nice to see you.  Were you talking to me, or was I just caught in the crossfire?"

"Apologies, Miss…"

"…Johnson," she supplied her alias.

"...Miss Johnson.  But surely even you can tell my esteemed colleague that any similarities between Santorini and the tale of Atlantis are pure imagination?"

Smiling tightly, Diana replied, "I've heard some convincing theories about Thera.  But please don't let me interrupt your conversation." She turned, and found herself mesmerized by the display of ceramics behind her.

"Something is wrong," a man murmured next to her.

THAT sounded like someone using properly miniaturized communication. She turned again, looking up at the tall, slightly gawky man beside her.  "I beg your pardon, sir?"

"Oh--" the man gestured toward the case "--we've had reports of…"  He blinked and looked at her.  "Really, miss, this is a security issue, none of your business."

"NYPD, Detective Diana Barrigan." she replied sweetly.  "I'd show you my badge, but it's a little hard to get to at the moment."

He frowned at her.  "What's NYPD doing here?"

"Security detail.  It keeps the lights on."

"Security detail.  Undercover."

Diana shrugged gracefully.  "I showed you mine."

"Agent Peter Burke, FBI.  White Collar division."

Diana looked at the vases again.  "And something is wrong."

"Haven't tracked it down yet, but we think something was smuggled in these.  But we can't get probable cause for a warrant."

"Hmm."  Diana sneaked a look at the arguing scholars.

"Professor Forsyth, can I have a moment?"

"For you, my dear Miss Johnson? Of course."

"Do you know if these have been scanned or dated?"

"Odd you should ask… the museum hasn't let me study them at all. Something about fragility of the glazes.  As if these glazes were fragile!  Faience has solid bridges in the body of the matrix, from sintering the quartz particles."

Agent Burke had caught on, she noticed.  "Thank you… Miss Johnson. That's very interesting."

Later that week, Agent Burke stopped by the precinct.  "Detective Berrigan.  I wanted to let you know that your instincts were spot-on." He looked at the figurine and books on the corner of her desk.  "I'm guessing this was more than just instinct, though."

Diana picked up the small figurine and looked into its eyes.  "I can't imagine what you mean."

"Hmm."  He handed her a card.  "If you ever get tired of being a flatfoot, let me know.  White Collar is new, and I'm looking for the best people."

"I'll think about it."

* * *

* * *

CHAG PURIM SAMEACH! I had so much fun writing these, and I hope you enjoy them. Have some quince hamentaschen!


End file.
